


Fear is not the end of this (I alone)

by SkylaRose



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Inspired by Music, Love, Not Canon Compliant, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylaRose/pseuds/SkylaRose
Summary: Inspired by the song I Alone from Live featured on the Throwing Copper album. Through the despair I promise you there is LoVe! Here is the song if you’re not familiar with it https://youtu.be/FNrQOUtXYOo





	Fear is not the end of this (I alone)

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to casket4mytears!!  
Your understanding of this song and what I was trying to put down was instrumental in me completing it. Thanks for the read through and editing x

**Fear is not the end of this (I alone)**

Desolate. The darkness of his mind colouring his physical form. Shades of grey and paste. Long gone the colour of the sun and the tawny hues his skin once exuded.  
His sun had run—into the abyss for a life less intense. He was still waiting for the papers. As each day passed without their arrival, he hoped. Dragging himself through his day. He was functional. But not living. The inevitable day would come. The papers would be delivered by a crumpled polyester-suited intern. He would sign, setting her free, all the while condemning himself to a life half-lived.  
The long way home was once a favourite. Top down. The rushing lights of the night frenzied on a blond canvas. Now, it’s just rote. Convertible never used as it should. The top never down. Just a cocoon housing the sadness and shielding him from the memories of wind-tousled hair and sideways glances that held promises of things to come.  
Blindly, a slender finger stabs at the stereo to fill the void. Music and words. His life’s work. A place of solace to rest his lonely mind.  
And it starts, a soft melodic introduction. A song that once held so much passion. A memory of a life worth living. Of passion and of love.  
_It's easier not to be wise_  
_ And measure these things by your brains_  
The finger raises again to change the track. The heart takes over from the mind and allows the music to wash over him, allows him to feel what he has been hiding from those left behind for months. They no longer ask. They orbit around him like ghosts. Never meeting his gaze, when they slip and mention her. Then comes the look of sorrow and apology, as they ghost around him again.  
_ I sank into Eden with you_  
Alone in the church by and by  
The memories and the heartache come crashing around him. His mind fills with a low-lit church. Candlelight, soft and warm, barely reaching the far recesses of the room. An altar. A priest robed in white. A woman and a man standing before it. Holding onto each other like life depended on it. Each other’s reason to breathe.  
_ We long to be here by his resolve_  
_ Alone in the church by and by_  
_ To cradle the baby in space_  
Two days later: the scream. Hysterical. An irreparable tear in the fabric of their fate. The bathroom dark. The only light from the open doorway. A woman withered on the floor. Blood. Pain. Loss. A life that never was. A life that held hope of clearer skies. A man crouched against the doorframe. Head in hands. Silhouetted in black against the pale glow of the light behind him.

_Your anchor is up, you've been swept away_  
_ And the greatest of teachers won't hesitate_  
_ To leave you there, by yourself, chained to fate_  
Inevitable. Everyone leaves. He is not worth staying for. His father. His mother. His wife. His child.  
The day is sweeping through wall to wall glass. Bright blue sky. His mind wanders. Just the right shade. Ink and torment cloud his vision like that of the storm brewing out across the water. Like oil sitting on water, navy clouds start their descent across the clear calm.  
Mac has come over to check in and save him from reading the chapters from his newest author. A droll man with droll words. How he is going save this, he has no idea.  
The front door. He pushes off from the bench. He isn’t expecting anyone. He wasn’t expecting Mac, either. Timber swings wide on brass look hinges. Downtrodden Polyester Suit shifts self-consciously, buff envelope in hand.

“Mr Echolls?” Polyester questions.  
His eyes never leave the envelope now being passed over the threshold into his still hands. Stillness has never been his thing. Perpetual motion is his thing. Well, once upon a time it was.  
“You have been served”  
Darkness clouds his eyes, consuming him like the storm that is rapidly chasing down the shoreline.  
Polyester makes a hasty retreat from the oncoming storm.  
Timber on timber crack together. The storm engulfs the shore. Hope fades as the colour and light leaves the day. As he knew it inevitably would.  
A strangled cry has Mac slamming her mug to the bench. Black liquid tossing over the side as rain pelts the glass in vengeance.  
Glass shatters in the entry. A table upended sending its contents across honey floors into a thousand pieces. A bloody hand retracting from the glass of a frame as Mac comes into view.  
He crumples then, hiccupping for air. All hope is gone. He is chained to his fate. He tells Mac everything from his position on the floor, surrounded by Veronica’s broken knick-knacks.  
He thought she may have already known, but is not surprised to discover she didn’t. Sharing wasn’t her thing. Deflection and running away was. As it would seem, it still is. The wedding. The church. The baby. The life worth living. All gone.

* * *

  
He is staring deep into his three fingers of scotch. Is this his fifth? Does it matter? He can hear Mac’s hushed tones. A one-sided conversation. She’s on the phone. To whom would she be speaking? He had pushed everyone away.  
Living on a loop: wake up, work, sleep, repeat.  
Day rolls into night. Night rolls into tomorrow. Tomorrow rolls into weeks, under constant watch. Mac, Wallace, Dick and Keith. Never quite in his face, but a presence of good intentions. They all know now. The happy secret. The miserable secret. A muddy blend of the same which had created such joy, only to come crashing down around him.  
No one speaks of her. Have they spoken to her? Seen her? He doesn’t ask. He just can’t take the hit. The buff-coloured envelope is mysteriously gone. His protection squad is out in full force. When did her people become his people? He had always assumed they were only in his life for her. Perhaps he should give himself more credit. If he was truly worth it though, she would have stayed.  
His nightly ritual is almost complete. Glass full, one more glass in the bottle. High functioning by day, alcoholic mess by night. Through his scotch-fueled haze, he hears a raised voice.  
It’s Mac. Her normal reserve broken. A one-sided conversation again. She’s on the phone.  
“I love you, but you can’t be serious.”  
Heart beats faster.  
“I am not taking sides.”  
Alert now. And strangely sober, despite what the near-vanquished McCallum’s bottle might suggest. It’s Veronica. She and Mac are fighting—about him!  
A pause. The beginnings of a sentence, the first word never fully formed. Silence lingering.  
“Stop it! Do you even hear yourself? “  
Mac pushes on before she can be interrupted. She cannot dance around this destruction for one more moment. She refuses to be a passive observer in her friends’ spiral into oblivion. One is determined to run and avoid facing her demons to the point that she had no self-awareness of her own destruction, or her complicity in destroying those around her. The other left so fragile from years of abuse and neglect, he doesn’t recognize that he deserves more and should stand up and fight for his own happiness.  
“Grow the fuck up Veronica, you are twenty fucking eight years old.”  
He cringes. He hadn’t heard the name said aloud for months. He moves closer to Mac. Even now, body at the ready to step in and protect Veronica from the anger pouring from every pore of Mac’s being.  
Mac is pacing the length of the island bench, her free hand gesticulating like a preacher to their congregation. The faster she speaks, the faster she moves. Fist clenching and unclenching. Voice lifting higher as the passion of her speech permeates the space on both ends of the line.  
“This is not high school. What happened to you is sad and terrible. But it didn’t only happen to you! It happened to both of you. You and Logan. Logan and you. He lost both of you that day. But that’s not the worst: he lost himself.”  
Silence. He can hear the muffled pitch of the voice on the end of the line. She is clearly giving as good as she’s getting if he can hear it from where he stands.  
“You were scared? That’s your excuse. Scared of what?” Silence. “Do you even know him? Seriously. He loves you, Veronica,” an exasperated Mac keeps pushing. “He has loved you since he was 12. Since you had knee highs and braids. He lives and breathes you, and now he’s one drink away from not existing.” Mac runs agitated fingers through asymmetrical hair, tugging at the roots as she listens to her friend down the line. “Yes, that would imply that his current state is your fault.” Silence. Pacing. Hair pulling. “You are free to do and act as you wish, Veronica. You are a grown-ass woman. You know that. It’s easier not to be wise. But you’re no fool. So whilst you are free to do and say, you are not free of the consequences of your actions.” Mac’s pacing pauses briefly as she looks up, as if searching for a sign. A pause. A silence. Exasperation. The pacing recommences.  
“If you think he only married you for the baby, you experienced a very different relationship than the one I witnessed for the last 10 years. You were the sun and he was always in your orbit.“ Silence again. Pacing again, agitation in every step. “Fear?! Fear doesn’t end epic love stories. You know what ends epic love stories? Death! Namely, Logan’s. He can’t continue as he is.”  
Movement out the corner of her eye stops her in her tracks. Squaring her shoulders with a confidence she no longer feels, she speaks to Veronica while looking Logan in the eye.  
“Do you know what, Veronica? I’m sorry I called. You clearly aren’t the adult I thought you were. You don’t get to go through life by not facing your fears. That’s not the Vee I remember.” Mac pulls the phone away from her ear. Squinting at the screen, muttering under her breath.  
_ Veronica hung up on her._  
Shame-faced, Mac meets Logan’s eyes. “I’m sorry” she stammers. “I think I took it back too far.” Mac looks dumbly at her feet, kicking them from side to side. “She rang, I answered. I saw you sitting there, into your 5th bottle since Monday, and I couldn’t hold back. She needs to know.”  
He looks at her, the adrenaline of the moment dissolving as his pulse slowed and he felt tired to his core.  
Someone had fought for him. He remembers when she used to do the same. The Patron Saint of Jackasses. He smiles at Mac. It is not quite meeting his eyes. It never does these days. A contraction of muscles. A social construct. Autopilot. He half-shrugs as he turns. Glass now forgotten, padding up the stairs.

* * *

  
Is she serious? Mac had never spoken to her like that before. Faithful Mac. Placid Mac had become something else. Protective? Weary?  
How dare she say those things to her? Doesn’t she know what she’s been through? She didn’t ask for any this. None of this is of her making. She needed space. Time. She ran. Now, as she looks out at a city skyline, far from ocean views and memories, silent tears fall. Legs pulled tightly against her chest, arms wrapped around them in a vice-like grip, as if to stop her from falling apart.  
She knew. She knew, deep down, this could happen. He is chained to his fate. As was she. Inevitable. Always a facade. Never truly brave. Always just trying to outrun fear and the intensity of life. The intensity of feeling. The battle between what is safe and easy to a life of passion and intensity that could cause just as much pain as it did pleasure.  
She fled before thinking. Her fear of breaking his heart if this were to happen again. _Shit_. It’s broken now. She did that to him. She had took it back too far, falling into her old rhythms. She had done this.  
He wanted to be a father. He almost was. The pride in his eye, every time he saw her. The protective caress of her belly, every time he touched her. The way he would wake and lay his head on her stomach, and whisper promises to their child as she buried her fingers in his hair. Knowing that this was perfect. Until it wasn’t.  
How could she look him in the eye? He loved her, had given her a precious gift. A baby. And she couldn’t even get that right. Glassy-eyed, looking at a now obscured, watery view. What now? Her body starts to heave as all she has been running from catches up. Pillow in hand. She screams into it again and again muffling the sound. Her neighbours don’t need to know. They see it every day in the halls. Tiny and grey paste and broken.  
Grey skies amplify her bleakness. Gone is the glow from her skin. The essence that was her. Now what is left is pale insignificance. Coffee in hand, curled against her chest, she rests her head against the glass. Pushing off from the window, she flicks a remote. Music fills the room.  
And it starts, a soft melodic introduction. A song that once held so much passion. A memory of a life worth living. Of passion and of love. In the moments when she has allowed herself to remember, she always plays this song. For a brief moment, letting everything she has buried deep pour out of her.  
_ Oh, now, we took it back too far_  
Only love can save us now  
_ All these riddles that you burn_  
All come runnin' back to you  
All these rhythms that you hide  
Only love can save us now  
All these riddles that you burn yeah, yeah, yeah  
A realization. It ripples through her. Her shell finally cracks. She moves. Bag in hand. She looks at the apartment, bleak and bland. Evidence of a half life. A passionless life. She walks through the door, leaving it behind.  
She runs again. This time, not away. Towards. No time for entertaining what if’s. No time for overthinking.  
She plays the song on repeat, driving down the hours. Like a mantra. Bringing her closer to him with every word. Fueling her need to reconnect. To beg forgiveness. To be loved. To love. To live. A life of pleasure and pain, in all its dark and light glory.  
_ I alone love you_  
_ I alone tempt you_  
_ I alone love you_  
_ Fear is not the end of this!_

* * *

  
He wakes. Head throbbing. Tired eyes. Red and glazed. Reaching out for a body that isn’t there. Despite time passing, he can’t stop himself searching for her in the tangled sheets every time he wakes.  
He drags himself to the bathroom. Time to put on his daytime facade. A front of functioning. He retches into the toilet bowl. Reaching for a toothbrush. Eyes avoiding her green one. He has never been able to throw it out. Her robe still hung on the door. Her clothes still lining the racks of the walk-in closet. An aggressive tug on the tap. Water cascading from the jets in the shower.  
Downstairs. The ocean is calm on the surface, much like his facade. Coffee in hand. He presses his too-warm forehead against the cool glass. A rattle. He stills. A key in a lock. The unmistakable sound of the barrel turning. A door swinging. A lock reengaging. The pin pad of the alarm. _Beep beep beep beep._ Her code. PONY.  
His heart stops. He had more to drink last night than he thought. His mind is creating the sound, surely. Taking a shaky sip from his mug, he stills again. Footsteps. Slow and unsure. His head still, against the glass.  
A ripple of understanding runs through him. The invisible strings that lace them together tremble with awareness. He has always been able to track her movements without looking. A simple awareness in time and space. He doesn’t move. Fear grips him in that moment. Is this the final showdown? Is this when she looks him in the eye and tells him he has never been worth it?  
She ran and is now back to deliver the final blow. Their life running through his mind in a cascade of vivid and bright emotion. The song. It trips him.  
_ To leave you there, by yourself, chained to fate_  
He turns, ready to accept his fate. He steels himself to not give himself away. A steadying breath, the only indication of what may lie beneath.  
_ All come runnin' back to you_  
All these rhythms that you hide  
He doesn’t let his mind skip to the next line. That would mean hope. That would mean opening himself up for more hurt. More pain. No more him.  
Sad tired eyes, once a rich chocolate now dull and dusty like coal, rise to meet hers. No longer the clear blue he recalled. Now rimmed red and bloodshot, almost grey and murky. Unfettered tears spilling from them.  
No one moves. The air around them thickens with all that needs to be said, and yet neither speak. Just staring down the distance between them.  
The distance is her fault. Not his. She knows this. She takes him in: grey and hollow. Sad and tired. She did this to him. Her poor lost boy, who only ever wanted to love and be loved in return. She did this. Is it too late to bring him back? Flip the coin. Is it too late for her also? Silence, stony and cold, protecting the lost souls standing in front of each other. Something has to give.  
_ It has to be me._ She breathes deeply. With more confidence than she feels, she at last breaks the silence.  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him and care for him as I should.”  
He stares blankly at her. Him? It dawns on him now. She had always believed the baby was a boy. Not that they would ever know. It was too soon to tell before the day their world fell apart.  
“It was my fault.” She’s sobbing now. “I wanted him so much”. A wracking breath. “I loved him so much. But it wasn’t enough to keep him. I wasn’t enough to keep him”.  
Her arms wrap around herself. Holding herself together. To will herself to continue. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t stand to see the look in your eyes, that I had let you down. Everyone has let you down... Logan.” His name sounds strangled on her lips. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to say it out loud. “Despite our ups and downs over the years. I had finally done it. I had let you down. The fear I always held. Letting you down. It was inevitable”.  
Her words creep over him, seeping into his skin. Her despair setting him in motion. So slow at first, he didn’t even recognize he was moving. Skin tingling with a glow he hadn’t felt in forever.  
The soundtrack reset, deep inside him.  
_ All these riddles that you burn_  
_ All come runnin' back to you_  
_ All these rhythms that you hide_  
And then the line he couldn’t allow himself to think earlier, ripping through him like it was burning him from the inside out.  
_ Only love can save us now_  
Without hesitation, he was pressed against her. Holding her weight as she collapsed against him. Her wracking sobs vibrating through to his core.  
Lips in her hair, whispering soothing words. “You didn’t let me down. It wasn’t your fault. It was a terrible thing that happened to us. But there is no fault here.” As tears fell into her hair, he whispers her name over and over.  
The feelings of release, relief and absolution slowly ease. Tears dry. The holding continues, transforming to warmth and new life. Sadness easing slowly at first and urgently, now transitioning into more. Passion. Hope. Future.  
He lays her down on the floor. This is no time for slow. This time to devour. To feast. Their mouths meet. Molding against each other. Two become one as it inevitably should be.  
This silent soundtrack thrumming through their subconscious. Thrumming through each other until they come undone.  
_ Only love can save us now_  
_ All these riddles that you burn yeah, yeah, yeah_  
_ I alone love you_  
I alone tempt you  
I alone love you  
Fear is not the end of this!  
I alone love you  
I alone tempt you  
I alone love you  
I alone love you  
I alone tempt you  
I alone love you  
I alone love you  
I alone tempt you  
I alone love you


End file.
